Frustration doesn't do well in the open
by Maydrei
Summary: Hermione is angry at Ron for, well, everything. Ron is fed up with the way Hermione's acting. Harry is sick of them both. What happens when you throw Ron and Hermione in a broom closet and let their frustrations lose?


**Huzzah! I am not dead! I know I've fallen off the face of the world, but now I'm back, with a little Hermione/Ron oneshot.**

**It may not be a masterpiece, but I had to post it because I've been so inactive lately. I've written this bit by bit over the past few months because I've had so little time, (and re-written, and deleted, and fixed and cut and grumbled over it for quite a while), and this is the finished product. Enjoy?**

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"Will you two stop fighting!" Harry snapped, sick of just lying there watching his two best friends bicker. Hermione and Ron turned to face him, Ron looking guilty, Hermione still fuming.

Now that he had their attention, Harry was not going to let this chance slip away. He was fed up with watching them avoiding each other for the past weeks, throwing back and forth nasty comments and glares at each other. "You two are my best friends," he said slowly. "I'm assuming you came up here to see _me, _not go at each other's throats."

"Sorry, mate," Ron grumbled, turning his head to the opposite wall and slouching back in his chair.

Hermione threw him a last withering look and faced Harry again. "How are you feeling?" she asked timidly.

"Peachy. As one would after being hit on the head with a bludger and having to listen to people fight for the past ten minutes," he said cheekily, leaning back into the hospital bed pillows. He didn't want to admit it, but he was a little miffed that she hadn't asked him that yet. As soon as she had entered the hospital wing and saw Ron by his bedside, she had gone into attack mode. Without even saying a simple 'hullo' to Harry, she had rounded on Ron, demanding to know why he hadn't told her Harry had gotten knocked out during Quiditch practice.

Hermione bit her lip, glancing down at her hands. She wasn't being a very good friend, was she? "Does it still hurt?"

"A little," Harry said shortly, his mind on something else. This was the first time the three of them had actually been together in the same room privately ever since—well, Lavender. Hermione had been too busy going back and forth between crying her eyes out by herself and pretending she could care less about what was going on in Ron's life. Ron, simply put, had been too busy sucking on Lavender's face to notice that anything was amiss, except for the few times he actually caught some of Hermione's snippety insults.

Needless to say, Harry hated it. It was no fun sitting next to Ron when Lavender was in his lap and monopolizing all his time, and Hermione hadn't been very fun herself lately either. Seeing his two friends tear their friendship apart—Harry couldn't allow it. And what better time to intervene when he could play the victim, with all the props (hospital bed, head wrapping) included?

"Look at me," he ordered both of them. "And listen to what I'm saying.

"Both of you are acting like complete prats." Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but Harry cut her off. "And don't you argue with me, because you know it's true. I've had enoughof _both_ of your attitudes. We're sixth years—you should start acting like it." Ron was just looking at him, but Hermione looked mutinous.

"I've been acting fine," she argued. "It's Ron that's been giving everyone who walks by a free show!"

"What'd you mean?" Ron demanded. "I—"

There was a sudden hiss as the curtains around Harry's bed were ripped back, making them all jump. Madam Pomfrey stood there, glaring down at them all. "This is a hospital wing!" she snapped. "Not a debating forum! Whatever you are arguing about, it's time for you to leave! It's curfew, and its time you go to your beds!"

Ron opened his mouth to argue, saw Pomfrey's face, and thought better of it. Hermione got to her feet and gathered up her books. Pomfrey watched them, then said, "Honestly, you two are prefects. You should be setting good examples, not squabbling at a friend's bedside!" Seeing Ron gather his things too, she whirled around and marched back to her office.

As soon as she had closed the door behind her, Ron yanked the curtains back to hide them and dropped his books onto Harry's bed. "Ron!" Hermione said. "What are you doing? She said we had to leave, if you didn't hear."

"I have ears in my head, thank you very much," Ron retorted, and took a seat. "I don't think we're finished here yet. What did you mean I was giving everyone a free show, huh?"

"No. You guys are not going to start fighting again," Harry cut in. "Did you guys not hear what Madam Pomfrey just chewed you out on?"

"Yes, she said we had to leave—" Hermione began.

"I mean about the role model part," Harry said. He looked at Hermione. This was going to hit her harder than it would Ron. "You are supposed to be setting good examples, because the lower years look up to you. Do you want them to see you like this? Honestly?"

Hermione blinked and dropped Harry's gaze, her eyes falling on the small badge she had pinned to the front of her lapel.

"I thought not. Now let me talk." Harry drew a breath, and Hermione reluctantly took a seat. "You two have to stop acting like this. Ron—and I'm saying this on everyone's behalf—could you keep your hands off Lavender for just a second? _I'm _starting to get sick of it, and no one else likes the way you're acting."

"There's nothing wrong with the way I act," Ron grumbled.

"Yes, there is. None of us like seeing you trying to swallow her when you're in the common room, you prat. And frankly, I don't really want to see my best mate getting groped while I try to talk to you."

That made Ron turn red, and Hermione threw him another nasty glare, though she looked pleased with what Harry was saying.

"Do you guys really want to go through the entire sixth year being angry with each other? Because that's the way you're headed if you keep this up."

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Ron and Hermione trudged up the stairs, completely silent and all too aware of how close they were. By the time Harry had finished giving them a talking to, it was past curfew. He had lent them his Invisibility Cloak to get back into the dormitories. Hermione had narrowed her eyes at him when he pulled it out of his bag—just why was he carrying that around with him? But she wasn't about to argue with him when he was giving her a chance to avoid trouble.

Could this night be any worse? First she had the panic of finding out Harry was hurt, then she had to get scolded by him like a child and be told she wasn't living up to her responsibilities as a prefect, was out of bed after hours, and to top it off, she had to rub shoulders with her least favorite person right now to get back!

Being under the cloak was stuffy, it had been a while since she was under it. Without Harry it was certainly a little roomier, but still, she would have preferred an Invisibility _Tent_ to be under with Ron, rather than this small cloak.

The silence was killing Ron. This was the first time he had been around Hermione in a long time, and he had the impression that she was suppressing the urge to beat his head against the wall. Or at the very least push him down the stairs. Either way, she wasn't going to be open for conversation.

Her hand brushed his, and Ron quickly pulled away. Hermione stopped and glared up at him. "I don't have cooties, Ron. No need to flinch like I'm infected," she said quietly, keeping her voice down in the echoing corridor.

"I didn't…it wasn't that," he mumbled.

"Oh, sorry," she said sarcastically, walking forward again. "It's because I'm not Lavender, right?"

This time it was Ron who stopped, and he grabbed her arm and turned her around. "Don't you talk like that. You know that wasn't—"

"Don't you grab me!" Hermione snapped, ripping her arm out of his grip, stumbling half out of the cloak.

Of course, as was Hermione's luck that night, Filch just so happened to round the corner at the end of the corridor. She turned her head and spotted him the same moment he got over his shock of seeing half a student down the corridor. Hermione was rooted to the spot. Just as Filch let out a yell and started to run towards her, she broke out of her spell, darting down the corridor.

_Where is Ron?_ Hermione thought desperately as she dashed away from Filch. He wasn't angry enough to leave her, was he? She could hear Filch huffing and puffing behind her as she tore around a corner. Suddenly a door opened on her side, and she was yanked inside. Hermione held back a yelp as her feet caught on the Invisibility Cloak (somehow it had fallen to the floor as Ron grabbed her inside) and tumbled back against Ron, grabbing him to keep her balance. He paid her little notice, quickly muttering a spell to lock the door and getting an arm around her to hold her up.

Hermione's chest heaved as she strained to listen for the sounds of Filch running. It came soon enough, the rattling of keys and the thump of feet, and passed by the door. When the sounds faded, Hermione let out a breath of relief, letting her head fall against Ron's chest.

Ron relaxed and leaned against the door, letting out a relieved breath of his own. "That was close," he said with a tiny laugh.

"Yeah," Hermione agreed, closing her eyes, still tense. She would have been in so much trouble if Filch had caught her! Sure, she might have been able to explain that they hadn't realized the time, but that wouldn't have gotten her anywhere with Filch.

Ron swallowed hard as her breath fell against his collarbone, just then realizing how close they were. Had she ever pressed against him like this? Had he ever had his arms around her like this? It felt so good to just hold her...

Hermione let out a long sigh as she finally calmed down. That had really scared her, it felt good to just let all that anxiety to fade away. She realized that she was in Ron's embrace, but in all honesty, she wasn't angry. The silence was getting uncomfortable, though, and to break it she murmured, "You know, I thought you left me for a second."

Ron looked down at her. "I would never do that," he told her.

"I wasn't serious," Hermione said, cocking her head up to meet his eyes. She blinked when she realized how close his face was, but kept talking to cover her surprise. "I mean, obviously you wouldn't leave me for Filch, no matter how angry you were with me."

"I'm not angry with you," he said quietly.

Hermione paused, confused. Something about his tone made her—nervous? She flicked her gaze down, then back up to his face. Something…was different. Not sure how to react, Hermione lowered her head, away from his gaze. She was feeling hot, all of a sudden.

Ron furrowed his brow and stared at the top of her head. He hadn't imagined that, had he? That was a moment, wasn't it? Once of those special moments that girls coo and sigh about—except Hermione had stopped it. Why?

Immediately, the answer came to him. "Hermione…" he said quietly, drawing her name out. "Look, about…Lavender…"

He felt her stiffen considerably, and wondered if he had said the wrong thing. But he had opened the door for it, so he might as well walk through it. "You know that I don't really..."

Why couldn't he just say it?Hermione thought with exasperation. She stared angrily at his chest. He had been puttering around with that stupid girl for so long—she could tell that he didn't have any interest in her anymore. This would be completely perfect if it wasn't for _her._ If he would just grow a backbone—!

Ron didn't know what to say, so he tightened his grip on her, moving his hands to her shoulders. "Hermione…"

She looked up at him, meeting his gaze. And it wasn't the hard, challenging look she had been giving him lately. It was something he had only seen rarely, out of the corner of his eye, or in quiet moments in the common room or library. "Hermione," he repeated. "You know that I don't really love Lavender, right?"

He had finally said it; she had known it was true. A warm wave spread from her stomach, happy. Hermione didn't know what to say back, so once again she turned her eyes down to give herself a moment to think—and her gaze fell on his neck.

A certain dark bruise on his neck, to be specific.

Without warning, a dark jealousy flared in her. She shoved away from Ron, breaking out of his grip. Ron fell back, completely taken by surprise, knocking his head against the door. "What the bloody hell was that for?" he demanded, regaining his feet.

"If you don't love her then why are snogging her every minute you get, you stupid idiot?" Hermione said loudly, refusing to accept the fact that she was hurt by seeing that. She didn't want to see something Lavender had marked him with when they were so close to having an intimate moment.

"What the hell did that come from?" Ron demanded, rubbing his head.

"On your neck!" she pointed at it. "She left a hickey, you prat! Right there! If you don't love her, then why do you do all that with her?"

"What do you expect me to do—push her away every time she gets near me?"

"Yes, I do!" Hermione snapped back. "Why didn't you just dump her when you stopped caring?"

"Because one thing in my life was going right for once!" Ron glared at her, getting angry himself. "It was nice to have someone pay attention to me! Lavender never made me feel like I was stupid or second best to anyone."

Hermione was silent for a moment, taking this in. "You're saying this is my fault? I never treated you like you were second best, Ron," she said, ice in her voice.

"Liar," Ron snorted. "And I never got ridiculously jealous at you when you were doing the same thing I do with Lavender!" he shot back, refusing to back down. She wanted a fight; she was going to get one.

"Ridiculously jealous?" Hermione asked. "And when was I doing such things with someone else, because I certainly don't remember being so immodest and vulgar as you are with that stupid cow."

"What, forgotten about Krum already?" Ron spat.

Hermione blinked, completely baffled. Then it clicked. "You mean to tell me that all these things—this fight, Lavender—is because I went to the Yule Ball with Krum two years ago?"

"All I'm saying is that I never had such a hissy fit when you were with him!"

"That's an outright lie!" Hermione cried. "If I remember correctly, you sulked and completely ignored me! Said I was 'fraternizing with the enemy!'"

"Well, you were! He was Harry's opponent, wasn't he?"

"Ron, that is not the point! If this is all because of _Krum, _for Pete's sakes, then I just can't believe you!"

They stood there, staring at each other, breathing heavy, red in the face from yelling. Then—

A loud cackle broke the silence, bouncing around the corridor beyond them. No doubt—Peeves.

Simultaneously they dove for the cloak, throwing it over themselves. Ron's foot slipped against the hem and he fell forward, throwing his arms against the wall to avoid knocking Hermione against it. She was about to push him away, not wanting to be so close to him, but then Peeves cackled again, closer this time, "I here someone out of bed!"

His head suddenly popped out of the wall beside them with a sudden "HA!", and Hermione jumped. Ron clapped a hand over her mouth to silence the yelp she was about to let out, staring at Peeves. He had turned his head to the noise, narrowing his eyes. "You're here somewhere…Lover's quarrel, was it?"

The rest of his body slid into the room. Hermione held her breath, fearing he would find them. No doubt he would start an alarm—and draw Filch back. He couldn't see them—but would he feel them if he reached out?

As if she had given him the idea, Peeves stretched his arms out. "Disillusion charm is it? I know I heard you…" he cackled again, and Ron drew himself as tall as he could and leaned against Hermione, avoiding the poltergeist's fingers as the swept past him. "Strange place to have an argument, don't you think?"

Suddenly he whirled around to face away from them and lunged as if expecting to catch someone. "Hrm. Not there." He floated around in a circle, casting his eyes around as if trying to spot something amiss. "Oh, I know!" he laughed, clapping his hands. "MARCO!"

_Polo,_ Hermione thought stupidly, close to panicking. _He is going to catch us, and we're going to be in so much trouble! Oh no, oh no…_

Peeves squinted around, then lunged again, directly at them.

Holding back a swear, Ron dropped, dragging Hermione with him, to the floor. Hermione gritted her teeth against a wince of pain, thankful the Cloak still covered them. The two remained like that, Ron on his hands and knees above Hermione, as Peeves investigated the entire room, swatting his hands around.

In the back of his head, Ron realized that it would have been funny to watch Peeves do this if the poltergeist wasn't looking for him.

After a minute, Peeves gave up. Figuring he had the wrong room, he sped out of the broom closet in search of the students he had heard. They both stayed on the ground, tense, expecting him to come back as soon as they moved.

Once he was certain Peeves was gone, Ron let out a giant breath and let his head fall down, hanging over Hermione's shoulder. She shifted a little, trying to inch away from him. Ron noticed and looked at her, annoyed.

She met his gaze, eyes hard. In an angry whisper, she said, "Get off me, right now."

Ron scowled down at her. "Look, I just saved you from Peeves—and Filch, for that matter," he argued back, just as quiet.

"If you had just let me leave when we were supposed to, this would have never happened!"

Ron didn't respond, but he didn't move, either. Hermione huffed and let her head fall back. "This has got to be the worst night of my life," she muttered.

For some reason, that remark really stung Ron, and he felt that anger come back from the argument they had just been having. Worst night of her life? Oh, like being stuck with him was worse than all the other things she had been through, with all the stuff that had happened to them? Facing Dementors, Fluffy, Umbridge, and everything else—and she thought he was the worst out of all of them?

"Where do you," he demanded, "get off with all this crap? Worst night of your life? Oh, poor you, Hermione," he snapped, voice dripping venom. He was sick of all this. First they were fighting, then they were having a moment, and then they were fighting again. Somehow this managed to happen every time.

Hermione blinked when she registered the tone of his voice. Sure, they fought all the time, but he had never used that tone with her. It made her want to cringe away, but she certainly wasn't going to let him see her back down.

Before she could say anything however, Ron was leaning back onto his knees. Scathingly, he said, "Well, I'm sorry I don't meet your standards." Hermione frowned, trying to figure out what he meant, when he continued, "Sorry I'm not famous like Harry or Krum."

Hermione's mouth opened, but a response didn't make its way out of her throat and she just stared at him.

He got to his feet, angry and feeling disgusted—with what, he wasn't sure. Himself? Hermione? It didn't matter. He leaned down, grabbed the Invisibility Cloak, and said, "You can make it back to the tower yourself. I'm going by myself." He tossed the Cloak at her and turned, grasping doorknob.

In a second Hermione was on her feet, yanking him back. "Oh no, you don't get to walk away from that," she hissed. "You actually think Harry is involved in this? Are you out of your mind? And stop bringing up Krum, I never wanted him, idiot."

He whirled around, suddenly looming over her. Hermione didn't let him intimidate her and glared up at him. "Stop. Calling me. An idiot," he glowered.

Hermione drew herself up. "Why should I? You're jumping to conclusions, making a fool of yourself, jealous over a guy I haven't talked to in a year and half."

"I'm not jealous of Krum!"

"Oh really?" Hermione demanded, her temper flaring, spotting the mark on his neck again and feeling like tearing him apart. "At least Krum was enough of a man to actually tell me his feelings, rather than sulking about and wasting time! At least he was brave enough to ask me to the Ball, rather than thinking I was just _Plan B_. And he wasn't so much of a coward, _like you, _to be too afraid to make the first move and—"

Ron suddenly growled, and then Hermione found herself shoved up against the wall, Ron's hands on her, his mouth, hard, on hers. She squirmed, trying to push him away, but Ron grabbed her hands and pinned them beside her head. He pulled away for a brief moment and said, "I am not a coward."

"Ron," Hermione tried to say, but then his mouth was on hers again and it came out garbled.

She didn't like this—his grip on her hurt, his mouth was too forceful, his body was crushed against her to keep her still. But when he dropped one of her hands to move his own to cup her face, turn it more up so he could kiss her more thoroughly, she didn't try to push him away. She let it fall to her side, unsure of what to do it with it.

She might not like it…but she didn't want it to stop.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Ron was supposed to break up with Lavender, wait a respectable time, and then come to her. Tell her he had been a complete idiot and that he was sorry, and if she would have him he wanted to be her boyfriend. They were _not _supposed to be having their first kiss like this—in a broom cupboard with her shoved up against a wall, after a fight when they had been at each other's throat.

Hermione didn't know what she was doing. She always had a plan, thought it out, and executed it perfectly. But with Ron right there—how could she think? What if she never got another chance like this?

Timidly she started to kiss back, trying to encourage him to be softer. When he felt her respond, he pulled away slightly and pressed his forehead against hers, keeping his eyes closed.

Hermione whispered his name, voice hardly audible, but he didn't say anything. She raised her eyes to look up at him and saw that he was staring at her.

"Did Krum ever kiss you like that?" he asked quietly.

"No," she said, feeling herself blush.

"Good," he said simply, and resumed.

Hermione was reluctant at first, self-conscious and nervous, worried she wasn't doing it right. What did she do with her lips? Where did she put her hands? Did, did she cock her head?

Ron didn't seem to have any of these problems. His body was pressed against her with ease, his mouth was folded against hers perfectly. One of his hands was curled tight in her curls, the other was settled on her waist.

Slowly, Hermione relaxed. Following Ron's lead, Hermione began to do what felt natural. Ron sensed her change and started kissing her more vigorously, moving his hands to her hips, pulling her closer.

And Hermione loved it. This—this was just plain _pleasure._ This wasn't planned, it wasn't something she had to think about. It was so different…so new…so _good. _Why didn't she do this more often? It felt great. This was something she had been longing for, dare she say, fantasizing about, for so long, and now that it was actually happening, it was better than anything she could have imagined. What did it matter if she didn't really know what she was doing? It didn't matter at all, in fact. Ron didn't care, and as long as he didn't stop, Hermione didn't care either.

Hermione didn't know how much time passed, but she didn't care. It was only until her eyes drifted to the floor—Ron's mouth paying attention to her neck—that she saw the Invisibility Cloak and she realized what was going on.

"Ron!"

He jumped and pulled away immediately, looking at her. "What? What's wrong?" he asked, startled.

"If we get caught—! We're out of bed after hours!"

Ron laughed, relieved. He was afraid he had offended her with the way he was touching her. And to see her revert to normal 'Hermione-mode' was a little amusing.

"Don't laugh, we're going to be in trouble!" Hermione hurriedly brushed his hands off her and collected the Cloak off the floor.

"Hermione," he laughed again. "Come on." He grabbed her hand and pulled her around.

"Ron, we shouldn't be out of bed," she said.

He shook his head, still smiling. He pulled her to him even as she resisted and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her again. Hermione stilled for a moment, responding without a thought, and then pulled away, face heated. "I mean it," she said quietly, unable to look him in the eye. He tried to kiss her again and she shook her head, pushing at his chest. "No. We have to leave, right now."

Ron groaned and settled his head on her shoulder. "I don't want to stop."

"I don't either, but—" Hermione stopped when Ron picked his head up and grinned wolfishly at her. "Oh, shut up," she muttered, and pushed away.

Before he could grab her again Hermione moved to the door and pulled the Invisibility Cloak over her. Lifting it over her head so Ron could see her, she said, "Are you coming or not?"

"Yeah, yeah." He walked over and ducked under as Hermione opened the door.

They made it back up to the common room with some difficulty, their journey stalled multiple times when Ron decided he had gone too long without stealing a few kisses or holding her, choosing to pull Hermione into an alcove or doorway to ensure that it would take as long as possible for them to reach the Tower. Hermione always resisted and tried to act as though she was affronted, but in all honesty she enjoyed these little disruptions as much as he did.

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**I have a question—can the ghosts feel the students? When writing the scene with Peeves, I couldn't find the answer. I wondered, 'would he feel them if he touched them? Or would he go through them? AUGH!' I know that the students get uncomfortable when ghosts go through **_**them, **_**and that Peeves can pick up things, but I wasn't sure if he would actually feel them. Oh well.**

**And perhaps Hermione's reaction to Ron's sudden kiss may seem like a complete 180, but I felt like it was suitable, because we all know that underneath that bookish exterior that insults Ron is really a sexually frustrated teenage girl on the inside. Ahem.**

**Let me know what you think. I've been away from writing so long I want to know if I've gotten rusty at anything.**


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